'No.' Rich shook his head. 'I will not.' 'I'm not trying to censor you or anything,' Hollis said. 'I'm just saying play it down, don't sensationalize it, leave it alone for a while.'
Rich looked the owner of the dude ranch squarely in the eye. 'Play it down? You think I'm making too much of this, blowing it out of proportion? You think Clifford's going to come back to life?'
'That's not what I'm saying. Look, our businesses are interconnected here, and I just think we oughta look out for each other. It's not going to do anyone any good to start a panic. As you know, I'm the largest single employer in Rio Verde. I provide jobs for twenty-five people part time and another twenty full time. If guests get scared away, those people'll be out of jobs. I'll lose money; I won't be able to afford to advertise in your paper; everyone will get hurt.'
Sue watched Rich from the side. Sloe saw his jaw clench, the muscles in his face tightening. 'So you want me to pretend that Terry Clifford wasn't murdered, that he's still happily working at your stable and nothing out of the ordinary has occurred.'
Hollis smiled. 'You're twisting my words, son. All I'm saying is don't blow this out of proportion. Don't give people another excuse to criticize our town. I mean, hell, how do you think it makes your brother look if your paper makes it sound like a damn psycho's running around killing people?'
I 'And draining their bodies of blood.'
'There you go again, talking like a tabloid. All I'm doing is suggesting that you treat Terry's passage with some respect. Inform people that he died, just don't go into the, grisly details.'
I didn't go into the grisly details.' You did from where I stand.'
I'm a reporter. It's my job to tell the truth. If it makes you feel any better, it's October and the tourist season is over and by next summer everyone will have forgotten all about this.'
'Oh, no, they won't.'
Rich ran an exasperated hand through his hair. 'Who reads the paper except locals? They're not the ones coming to your ranch. Jesus, I don't know why I'm even arguing this point. I run a newspaper, crummy as it is, and when news happens I'm going to report it. Period.'
Hollis's voice became a little less folksy, the tone hardening. 'The First Amendment does not give you the right to damage my business.'
'I'm not trying to damage your business. I'm simply reporting the facts. Look, I can get plenty of reliable sources willing to go on record saying that a vampire killed Clifford, Torres, and those two kids. You want me to do that?'
'Reliable sources? Like who? Your dipshit brother?'
Rich stiffened. 'Get out of this office,' he ordered. 'Now.'
Hollis started walking. 'I'm pulling all of my advertising from this rag.'
'Go right ahead.' The editor stood unmoving, watching him leave. Sue tried to return to work on her article, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Rich remain standing in the middle of the newsroom. She looked up, cleared her throat in an effort to get his attention. He turned to face her. 'Are you going to be able to keep going?' she asked. 'Without his advertising, I mean?'
He waved his hand dismissively. 'We'll survive. Hollis has always had an inflated sense of his own importance. The ranch does support a lot of businesses around here, but not us. If Basha's pulled out we'd be in big trouble, but the Rocking DID?' He snorted. 'Hollis has always been a miser about advertising in The Gazette. We'll live without his fifty bucks a week.'
'Good.'
Rich walked back to his desk. ''It just depresses me that the man would even try to tell me what to print and what not to print.' He shook his head. 'Most people don't believe in freedom of the press.
Not really. They think they do, but they don't. People like to hear or read things that they agree with. They want their own views promoted as fact and don't want equal time given to their opposition.
They want only their side given. But the presentation of facts is never wrong. Remember that, if you remember nothing else. It is the journalist's responsibility to be oh jective. When you start printing only one side of a story, when you start limiting people's access to facts, telling them by your presentation and emphasis what to believe, what is truth, then you are not doing your job.'
Sue smiled. 'Was that going to be a lecture to your class?'
'No. But it should've been.'
Their eyes met. It was now or never, she thought. She looked down at the scratch paper on which she'd written her lead. She was nervous, her heart beginning to pound, but the opportunity was here, had presented itself without her having to reach for it, and she forced herself to act. She looked up at him. 'It is a vampire,' she said.
Her voice was meek, barely audible.
'What? '
She licked her lips. She wasn't sure if he didn't believe her or hadn't heard what she said, but she pressed on. 'There is a vampire.
We call it a cup hug/rngs/.'
This time he had heard. 'Cup hugrngs.
'It means 'vampire' in Cantonese.' 'And these vampires drink the sap of trees, too, I sup pose?'
Sue reddened. 'You read my story.' .
'Of course. I copy edited it.'
'Then, yes,' she said. 'As a matter of fact, they do.' The editor chewed his lip for a moment, looking at her, thinking. Then he put down his pen and sighed. He stood, walked over to Sue's desk, and pulled up a chair, sitting down next to her. 'Okay,' he said. 'I admit it. I'm not the skeptic I used to be.' He crossed his legs. 'I guess it's about time I heard this. Tell me about the cup hugirngsi.
'' She looked at him. 'This isn't a joke.'
'I know.' Sue nodded. 'Thank you,' she said quietly. And she began to talk..
When Sue arrived at the restaurant, both her parents and her grandmother were standing next to the front window, staring out toward the highway. The sight of their faces peering from between the taped signs advertising Egg Roll and Sweet and Sour Pork lunch specials filled her with a sinking feeling. There was none of the dread she associated with D/Lo Ling Gum, and she knew that if something truly important had happened, her father would have called her at the paper, but she could still tell that something was wrong, and instead of parking the station wagon in the back, she pulled up to the short side walk at the front of the restaurant.
She hurried inside, the bell above the door tinkling as she pushed the door open. She addressed her father: 'What is it? What is wrong?'
']John is late. He was supposed to be here half an hour ago.'
There were two diners in the restaurant, eating a late lunch or an early dinner at the far table, and they looked up, frowning, at the sound of the Chinese words ...... Her grandmother's voice betrayed no emotion, but her eyes were troubled. 'It is not safe today. Not even in the daytime.'
Sue looked from her grandmother to her mother and father. 'I'll look for him.'
'I will go,' her father said.
'I want to go too.'
Her mother shook her head, but her grandmother nodded. 'All right,' her father said.
Sue dropped her notebook on the nearest table. 'I'm sure he's fine. He probably just stayed after school for something. I don't think anything's happened to him.'
Neither her parents nor her grandmother responded. They pulled out of the parking lot a few minutes later, her father driving, and followed in reverse the path John usually took home from school. They cruised slowly through the parking lot of Basha's, Sue peeking down the trail that led through the vacant land between the shopping center and the restaurant. They even drove past Dairy Queen and the liquor store, in case he'd stopped off to get something to eat or drinL But there was no sign of John, no sign of any students.
Something had happened. They drove up Ocotillo toward the junior high.
The school was hosting an afternoon home game against Globe, and the sound of cheering from the football field carried clearly in the cool desert air. It surprised Sue that real life was still continuing for some people in town, that they knew or cared nothing about the cup hugirngsi, and though she knew that ignorance was not really bliss, that not being aware of the situation and failing to take proper precautions was more likely to lead to death than
